KORACH 5770: Faith and Fantasy

Dear Friends:

I have revisited and revised a column that I authored a few years ago in light of this week’s portion, Korach. Enjoy!

-----

There’s a book out there called Harry Potter and Torah. The author, Bruce “Dov” Krulwich, was inspired by his children’s enthusiasm for the Harry Potter books to write a guidebook connecting themes from the popular seven-book series (and, thus far, five movies and counting) to the five books of Moses.

Each chapter of Harry Potter and Torah begins with a premise drawn from the Harry Potter books, and then explores the way in which this premise appears in Torah, Midrash, Talmud, and other sacred Jewish texts. The first chapter discusses Magic Words. Young wizards learn to cast spells, harnessing the power of speech in the service of magic. The author compares the opening of Genesis in which God brings forth Creation through divine speech: the words “Let there be light,” a magical spell itself. This leads to a discussion of the power of saying blessings in Jewish tradition, and an exploration of the word “Abracadabra,” which derives from the Hebrew abra k’davra, “I will speak so as to create.”

The Harry Potter books are full of magical beasts. Jewish sacred literature is also full of magical beasts! Balaam rode a talking ass; midrash swarms with fantastic creatures. Noah sent a message from his ark by raven and dove; Harry uses Hedwig the messenger owl. Each comparison provides Krulwich with a springboard to discuss the Jewish lessons embedded in magical themes. All in all, he makes a compelling argument: if you like Harry Potter, you’re going to love Torah! Far from dusty, dull, holy books, Jewish sacred texts are fun, fantastic, relevant, and, yes, magical.

The Torah portion Korach that we read this week contains a spectacular scene that would play well in any Harry Potter installment. In response to the rebellion instigated by Korach and his followers, “the earth beneath them opened its mouth and swallowed them, their houses, and all the people associated with Korach with their property. They and all they possessed went down alive into She’ol, and they vanished from the assembly” (Num. 16:32-33). The text emphasizes the miraculous nature of the offenders’ demise. Just before the catastrophe, God predicts that the event will be, in Hebrew, a b’riah, meaning a totally new creation, something never before seen (Num. 16:30). Further, in the Book of Deuteronomy, referring to the doom of Korach’s band, the Israelites are reminded, “Your own eyes saw all the wondrous deeds that the Eternal performed” (Deut. 11:2-7). The recollection of wondrous deeds serves as a preamble to this line: “Therefore, keep all the mitzvot that I enjoin upon you today…” (Deut. 11:8). Supernatural themes are coupled with moral instruction.

Many reasons have been proposed for the runaway popularity of J. K. Rowling’s series, making her the most commercially successful novelist of all time (by some accounts richer than Queen Elizabeth II). Most come down to this: the engaging way in which the Harry Potter books wed supernatural themes to timeless themes of adolescence: discovering oneself and one’s destiny; choosing right instead of wrong; making difficult decisions and sacrifices; trading one’s childhood innocence in order to understand and confront life’s painful realities – loss, death, heartbreak, betrayal. Above all, the Harry Potter books are about moral dilemmas and the spiritual discipline, study, practice, and life experience required to confront these dilemmas with integrity – all cloaked in the garment of magic. No wonder hundreds of millions of readers hang on every word and moviegoers have given the franchise billions.

As a congregational rabbi who enjoys the privilege of studying with hundreds of children and adolescents, I appreciate the way in which the Harry Potter books, and these themes, resonate. Given that the Torah similarly weds tales of the supernatural to timeless life lessons (particularly lessons relevant to growing up in a world that often shocks, confuses, and disappoints us), I wish that more students knew half as much about the basic stories of Jewish sacred literature as they do about the exploits of Harry, Hermione, Voldemort, and the rest. I have been wondering why Harry Potter enjoys such a wide readership while the most exciting stories of the Torah frequently meet with blank stares.

One reason may be the way in which Torah has been taught, historically and today.

Across the spectrum of Jewish practice and belief—from Orthodoxy to Reform—Torah is often presented in the classroom as a “holy text,” indeed the “word of God,” instead of, simply, brilliant storytelling. No one reads Harry Potter feeling pressured to believe in Dementors, Hippogriffs, or Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. Our youth, however, often encounter Torah stories in the context of a religious school class or synagogue sermon in which the book is presented as a book fundamentally unlike other literature, a story that we not only should appreciate and enjoy but believe. Students grow up thinking that to call the Torah “literature” is to besmirch it, as if only “non-fiction” writing has lasting value. If they can’t “believe” the stories literally, why bother reading them at all? they conclude. Coming across a fantastic, hair-raising passage like the demise of Korach’s band, one is likely to feel confounded, and say, “Give me a break!” That's too bad, because the point of the story was never to make us believe in miracles but rather to expose the folly of a rebel demagogue.

Yet some of the greatest works of moral instruction, timeless stories illuminating the human condition, are not “holy books.” Shakespeare’s Macbeth and Hamlet speak in the language of ghosts, spells, and witches, but their universal, eternal themes and moral dilemmas resonate in the heart of even the most dyed-in-the wool rationalist.

If you do believe that the Torah represents the word of God, then I do not wish to dissuade you. Far from it! However, if you have never felt comfortable reading Torah because it has only been presented to you as a matter of belief instead of literature, then I would invite you to put away your assumptions and simply begin to read – these, the timeless stories of the Jewish people.

If I could cast one spell, if a wizard could grant me one wish, it would be this: that we would read Torah with open and critical eyes, approaching it as one of the world’s most inspired and inspiring literary contributions. May our encounter with Torah be a fresh miracle every day.